A Fiasco Worthy of a King
by Pippa Spark
Summary: Raoul and Buri disappear on the day of their wedding...meanwhile, Jonathan accidentally gets married a second time, and Alanna gets into a fight with some buckets of paint :D Also features Myles, Tkaa, and others. T for safety. Please R&R, and enjoy :D


**I wrote this fic. for the June Writing Challenge at the Tamora Pierce Writing Experiment forum. The challenge was to write a one-shot that begins with the line:  
"S/He never could forget what happened that day..."  
The story could include any characters and could be any length – only mine is quite short because of the mad rush to write it a couple of hours before the deadline :D** **I wish I had started it earlier, I feel as though I could've done just a little bit more with this cute, fun idea…**

* * *

He could never forget what happened that day. King Jonathan of Comté rubbed his eyes tiredly as he sat at his desk, watching the candle burn lower and lower. Still the pages before him were blank, yet decorum stated that the explanation for the day's rather unusual events needed to be written and published by the morning light. Jonathan beat his head against the desk. He also needed to quietly end his accidental marriage to his new second wife – who now had two husbands. But first, the note of explanation needed to be written.

_Oh gods_, thought Jonathan with a rueful smile, _where to start?_

_

* * *

_

The morning had started with promise. Birds whistled and the sun shone, as was proper for a happy ending. Well, if it had been a fairytale, this wedding would have marked its end. As it was, however, this day of joy would surely mark the beginning of a beautiful new era for Raoul of Goldenlake and Buriram Tourakom.

_Of course_, reflected King Jonathan, _they will have to get married first_. This could prove difficult, seeing as neither was in sight on the day of the wedding.

Yet their appearances – or lack of – were the only things not running entirely to plan. As dictated by Tortallan custom, weddings needed only an aisle for the service, and plenty of refreshments for the reception afterwards – and, naturally, a vast quantity of flowers for throwing, and decorations to coo over in order to avoid awkward pauses in conversation. Seeing as this was being treated as a royal wedding – the wedding was, in fact, the monarchs' gift to two of their most loyal servants – everything was on an enormous scale.

Jonathan looked around the Grand Hall admiringly, impressed by how well it had been adapted to host a wedding. Guests crowded up to both edges of the long - and rather fine and expensive – hand-made Carthaki carpet which stretched the 30 cart-lengths distance from the throne room doors on one side of the hall, to the entrance hall doors opposite. Their eyes were fixed eagerly, on the smaller set of doors, baskets of flowers clutched tightly in their hands, as they waited for the bride and groom to emerge from the throne room.

But what was taking them so long?

Jonathan clapped his hands together and called for silence. He began to speak once a respectful hush had travelled through the crowd.

"Honoured guests," he said, "friends! Welcome, and may I offer my personal thanks to you all for coming to celebrate with us the matrimony of two wonderful defenders of the realm."

The faces turned towards him looked expectant and eager. Jonathan could see that, like any true-blooded Tortallans, the crowd could hardly wait for the traditional pelt- the-happy-couple-with-flowers part of the ceremony.

He paused and smiled, savouring the moment. "I will go and fetch Raoul of Goldenlake and Buriram Tourakom this very instant!"

The hall erupted in cheers.

Jonathan bowed, but paused just before walking away. "By the way," he added, "as your friend and your king…I command you to throw flowers at the two people running down the aisle as you have never thrown them before!"

The crowd cheered at the weak line – the mood was too cheerful to be dampened by anything at this stage.

Humming to himself, Jonathan swept briskly towards a side staircase. He was a little surprised that Raoul and Buri had not yet appeared, but he had managed to cover it up perfectly well before the oblivious guests. They would, he was sure, be on the way to the throne room at this very moment to meet him before making their entrance.

A clatter came from behind him. Turning, Jonathan saw a short lady with copper-coloured hair, who was wearing an unusually nervous expression – well, for her.

"Ah, Jon?" she said carefully. "I have a feeling that you may soon, ah…give a short and violent exclamation." She gulped.

Jonathan fixed piercing sapphire-blue eyes on his Champion. "At least with you around, Alanna, nothing ever gets dull." His voice took on a pleading tone. "Just tell me what's happened…it isn't a good surprise, is it?"

"Well, ah…" Pulling a letter from inside her tunic, Alanna grinned weakly. "How about you read this letter – it explains everything…and I'll go down there and make sure there are enough flowers."

"Stop," Jon grabbed Alanna's collar as she tried to escape down the stairs. "I'll read this letter…and then I'll decide if you're allowed to leave."

Alanna scowled at the command, and seemed close to rolling her eyes before thinking better of it. "Fine," she muttered.

The letter was written in Raoul familiar scrawl.

_Jon!_ It began, _How are you?_

Taken aback, Jonathan continued to read suspiciously through narrowed eyes.

_I don't have much time to write this letter, and I'm no master at writing letters anyway, so I'll make this a short one._

_Buri and I have decided that we want to be married. But, after a lot of thought, and naturally, discussion with people such as Alanna_ – Jon raised his eyes to glare at the aforementioned, who attempted to smile winningly, and failed – _we have decided that a royal wedding is a little too formal for our tastes. We thank you, and we plan on returning to Tortall and resuming our services for crown by the coming month._

_I've known you for years, and I'm telling you now, resist the urge to ball up the paper and throw it into the fire, __read to the end first._

_You see…elopement is a wonderful word. Really, just pause and consider it, and all the magical possibilities it entails…oh, alright, yes, we've eloped. And, we're rather happy about it too. We knights and Queen's Riders like a bit of adventure, and a standard wedding simply seemed a little too tame. Besides, Buri here was rather put out by the fact that she'd be required to dress up, while the men only have to sling a shirt on. She says her hair hasn't been un-plaited since she was fifteen, and she isn't going to have it combed and styled now._

_Of course, that's trivial, really. We just wanted to escape, and get married our own way. We're in love, and love makes people do strange things, and it makes stranger people do even stranger things – hence the fact that our honeymoon currently consists of trekking across Galla and camping in trees – but that's besides the point. We mean no __offense__ to anybody, and even managed to get royal consent to elope – see the seal? Alanna found it in your desk. And no, don't be annoyed with Alanna, Thayet was the one who gave her the key to your study._

_And a message from Thayet…she says that she's sorry for the inconvenience of it all, but keeping this a secret was her last gift to Buriram Tourakom, before Buri becomes the Lady of Goldenlake and Malorie's Peak. But I'm sure she'll discuss that with you later. As for Alanna, she said she was sure you'd want to speak to her in person – and she sounded _ever_ so thrilled when she said it. _

_Best wishes,_

_Your loyal servants,_

_Raoul and Buri_

"Have you developed the gift of prophecy, Lady Knight?" asked Jonathan, a hint of menace in his voice. "It says here that you were sure I would wish to speak to you in person. And, do you know what? You were right."

"I'm not going to say sorry, Jon," said Alanna simply. "Their elopement was what they wanted. I helped them in the name of true love."

"In the name of true love? You're becoming a playwright, all of a sudden?" Jon's voice was getting progressively higher. "You realise that as a friend, I fully support what they did. It's what Thayet and I wished we could have done for our marriage! But as a King, this could be the most embarrassing social gaffe of my entire reign so far!"

"Jon, calm down," said Alanna, but the King was not listening.

"The most highly influential and important Tortallans in the entire realm have been invited to this royal ceremony! They're waiting for a marriage that can't possibly happen because we've lost the bride and groom!"

Alanna put a hand on her friend's shoulder. "You shouldn't get so worked up like this, you're making yourself hysterical!" she chided. "Just get out there and tell the crowd what happened. Even stiff wigs like them must know how to have a laugh if the King encourages it!"

"They may laugh, but it'll be a mean laugh, not an understanding one – they'll be laughing at me! I can't afford to become laughing stock in front of great powers such as them for even one day; it would take forever for them to respect me again."

Alanna put a hand on Jon's elbow and steered him along a back passage towards the throne room. "I think you may be taking all of this a little too seriously," she said, with the ridiculous sense of being a mother to the nation's most powerful figure. They walked in silence, until they eventually stepped inside the throne room, and could hear the crowd on the other side of the modest oak doors. "Look," said Alanna, "if you don't tell them the truth, I will."

"No!" cried out Jon as Alanna moved towards the doors. He glanced desperately around the room, as if hoping the answer lay among the abandoned, half-finished decorations. He nearly stepped in an ornamental cake as he reached his friend in four long strides. "Don't," he begged, "we'll think of something else!"

"They're waiting, Jon," came the reply as Alanna grasped the door handle.

Jon cried out in frustration, and impulsively grabbed a paint-spattered cloth and flung it over the Lady Knight in some half-brained idea of pinning her down until all the guests died of old age.

Alanna's fighting instincts reacted quickly, however, and she thrashed about on the ground, rolling this way and that, knocking over pots of paint, jars, and stands as she went. Jonathan soon realised that he now resembled a wide variety of flowers rather than the dignified ruler of a kingdom.

Now, not only did he somehow have to explain everything to his guests, but he also had to endure the torturous scene covered in paint from head to toe. His clothes were beyond repair, and his hair would undoubtedly be stained all colours of the rainbow for the rest of the year.

He saw red –wiping the back of his hand across his eyes, he found why; his face, it would seem, had gotten the worst of the scarlet paint bucket.

At that very moment Alanna wriggled out of his grip. She scrambled to her feet, and backed up against the door. Jon glared at her with vengeance written all over his paint-spattered face.

"Wait until I catch up with you, Lady Knight!" he growled, and jumped to his feet.

Alanna – paint cloth and all – turned tail and pushed open the throne room doors and began sprinting down the aisle. Jon was hot on her tail.

He was dimly aware of the crowd cheering, and more than once he had to spit out a well-thrown flower. The strange cloth-covered creature in front of him seemed to be doing little better as it flailed about, dashing along as flowers pelted it from all sides.

Two men threw flowers calmly from the back of the room. "These new-fangled marriages aren't anything like what we had back in my day," remarked Myles of Olau.

"Why are they sporting a rainbow theme?" Gareth the Elder of Naxen wanted to know.

"Who are we to understand the ways of the young?" chortled Myles in answer.

"Probably some K'Miri tradition, you know," replied his companion, "Odd lot, but then again, they are foreigners." The two gentlemen exchanged a knowing look which only they seemed to fully understand.

Meanwhile, Jon had just burst through the doors at the opposite end of the Grand hall, into the reception area. He caught up to Alanna in an instant, but before he could say or do anything, he was immobilised by the same beast which had a firm hold around Alanna's wrist, and which appeared to be taking no notice of her squirming.

Tkaa the basilisk surveyed the two paint-covered people whom he grasped in each hand. The entrance hall, converted into a reception area, was deathly quiet. Then Tkaa raised Alanna's right hand and Jon's left, and pressed them together.

"You have admitted your love for one another. You had walked – or in your case, enthusiastically sprinted – down the aisle. I hereby pronounce you," here Tkaa smiled and hissed in ill-suppressed laughter, "husband and wife."

He continued. "May you forever be joined together by your minds, your hearts, and your hands." The reception erupted into a startled, but increasingly confident applause. "And," added Tkaa softly, "may you also be joined by your paint – you may have just discovered a new colour!" He glided off cheerfully, but not before he gave Jon and Alanna a knowing wink.

Jon and Alanna looked down at their still clasped hands in dismay.

"Puce," remarked Alanna.

"Pardon?" asked Jon, utterly confused.

"I think the colour may be puce…what would you say to escaping to the gardens, _husband_?" Alanna laughed nervously.

Jon spied approaching well-wishers. "I think," he said quickly, "that that is a wonderful idea." The pair slid outside as quickly and as quietly as possible.

Once out of sight of the entrance hall, Jon turned to Alanna. He knew he was full of things he wanted to say, but he couldn't for the life of him remember what they were. "You're still wearing your sheet," he commented.

"I'm thinking about cutting eyeholes in it, and calling it a cunning disguise," said Alanna flatly. Then her voice grew more serious. "Do you think that they actually believed we were Raoul and Buri?"

"I don't know," said Jon, "but I certainly don't want to go back just yet to find out."

"Me neither," replied Alanna, as she took of her boots and began to wipe them clean with handfuls of grass. Then she looked up at Jon. "I'm sorry I – look, I'm just sorry about the whole mess, okay?" She looked down at her bright blue hands. "I really am sorry." Her voice was barely audible.

Jon bent down. "Alanna," he said gently, "look at me."

She obeyed, and Jon was shocked the see her lip tremble. She wiped away the first tears as they began to fall, leaving a green stripe in their wake. "I'm becoming soft." She gave a watery laugh.

Jon passed her a corner of the cloth to wipe her eyes with. "That's only a couple of tears. You should've seen Gary's face last week when he stubbed his toe – I can't recall any tears, but the curses certainly made up for them."

Alanna chuckled, this time sounding a little stronger. Jon took a deep breath.

"Alanna, today you may have made the greatest gaffe in the history of marriage."

The King's Champion looked away and picked at the grass. Jon continued.

"You probably not only embarrassed yourself, but also your monarchs and Tortall. You also," added Jon with a grin, "wasted a vast amount of rather good quality paint."

Alanna stopped, and looked up with a glint of hope in her eyes.

Jon broke into a wide grin. "I had more fun just then than I have had in years."

His Champion returned the smile, and in one impulsive leap tackled Jon, knocking him backwards, like the way they used to when they were pages. "Raoul taught me that one," she laughed, as Jon stared at her, stunned, slowly realising she had him pinned to the ground.

"Okay!" he chuckled, "I surrender!"

Alanna rolled off him and lay on the ground at his side, and together they lay in silence for a while and watched the sky.

Suddenly, an enormous bang sounded from the palace, and the pair sat bolt upright in shock. But as multicoloured mage-lights bounced though the clouds, they laughed at their fright.

"That's the party explosions we had planned, to mark the point where the guests begin to leave."

Alanna grimaced. "We should head back."

They both nodded, yet neither one moved.

"You know," mused Jon, "I don't have regrets, but sometimes…I do wonder."

Both of them went quiet for a moment as they thought of the past, and of days and possibilities long gone.

"I wonder too," said Alanna. "No unhappiness…things are the way they should be. But sometimes I do think back, and remember…"

Sapphire eyes met purple ones, and paint-spattered face bent towards paint-spattered face. "Just one," said Jon, "for old times' sake." Alanna smiled, and the two, for a moment, joined in mind, heart, and hand.

* * *

**Oh gosh…I'm not sure if, when I began writing that, that I wanted it to end up more Jon/Alanna than Raoul/Buri. Still, I hope you enjoyed it :) Please tell me what you thought of the ending… and I'd also love to hear if you think I should've added this on the end:**

Jon paused, and threw a balled-up sheet of paper into the fire. _Maybe_, he thought_, I won't tell them about that last little bit._

**And that's kind of how I'm feeling as well... I'm not a massive Jon/Alanna shipper (Jon's always better in my imagination; I'm always shocked by how much of a !#$%^&* he is when I re-read the books!), but hey, sometimes I wonder too!**


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